


day*3. But First, the Storybook Had to Close

by eloveated



Series: YOUNGFEEL*WEEK [3]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fig, IAMSOSOSORRY, M/M, Past Lives, Suicide, Trees, day3, day6shipweeks2018, youngfeelweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloveated/pseuds/eloveated
Summary: a green fig tree is dying. a purple one knows no bigger grief.





	1. There Is No Other Way To Know

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles from Garden City Movement's "She's So Untouchable"  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNobTRhKtJQ
> 
> I'm so sorry about this... I've had the idea since the beginning of time, though...
> 
> I hope day2 made up for it though ;v;

Younghyun was one hundred, then. Wonpil was seventy.

It was so unfortunate, what happened to them. Anyone would say so. Especially their closest friend, Jae.

 

Back in the days when Younghyun was first planted, everything was so simple. The purple fig was only a seedling, resting in the ground alongside his brethren, hoping that he would be the one to survive out of all of them. He somehow fought through the hunger (being the runt of the pack meant he had trouble getting enough nutrients and rainwater and sunlight to survive the pressing sensation from his older brothers and sisters) and finally broke through the ground as he sprouted his first root to accompany the two small leaves atop his stem. It was a struggle indeed, but he stretched up higher and higher toward the sun until he could see above the soil holding his roots in place. As soon as he could feel the sun’s rays on his leaves, warming them up and fueling his photosynthesis like they never had before, the fig seedling sent out his first smile to the world below the Earth through his tiny roots.

 

Jae was a dandelion. He flew in out of nowhere (he later said he was all the way from LA, but Younghyun refused to believe him) and settled beside the lonely fig, becoming his only company. The grasses were too busy whispering rumors to one another to properly talk to Younghyun, and he had long ago asked them to move their roots further away from his own so he wouldn’t have to listen to their constant meaningless babbling.

As soon as Jae grew his first roots, he reached them out to Younghyun as quickly as he could, avoiding the grass roots as if they were a virus. “Wassup,” was his first word, and the young purple fig immediately loved him.

“Not much. Just avoiding the grass as always.”

“I know why, bro. Tch… My mom warned me about it, and I nearly died the first time my roots touched one of its kind. Urgh!”

Younghyun stifled a laugh, but his roots gave him away.

“Hey… Are you laughing at me?!” The dandelion poked the fig’s roots and laughed along. “I’m going to grow WAY taller than you, soon, so you better stop laughing! What’s your name?”

“Kang Younghyun. And yours?”

“Park Jaehyung. You better remember that!”

Younghyun would never forget.

Jae, in fact, **did** grow taller than Younghyun when the tree was still a seedling (in the early spring), and he took great pride in that while it lasted. Not long after Younghyun outgrew him, the flower became a silvery shade of grey from his little seeds, and, as the wind blew his little brothers and sisters away to begin their own colonies, the young Younghyun protected his fragile stalk from the impending rain-storms of late spring.

 

Thirty three years later, the cycle was still upholding. The purple fig tree, now blooming with luscious fruit, still protected his small dandelion friend from the weather, and Jae still talked to Younghyun about the stupid things he heard the grass roots conversing about. But, for once, the grass had been useful, because one day the flower excitedly warbled out, “There’s a new fig tree. He’s growing somewhere close, to the west. We should hit him up!”

“Last one there is a rotten stalk!”

“Hey!”

And Younghyun hurriedly began to push his roots in a westward direction, asking some grass roots for directions from time to time.

“How old are you?” Younghyun asked the new tree that had been planted beside him, his roots tensing in curiosity and excitement at finally having reached the tiny-ass target after three days of blindly searching for him below the ground. He had beat Jae. Younghyun – 1, Jae – Zero. Yes!

“I’m three.”

“Wow… They planted you pretty young. You have a name yet?”

“Yeah… Kim Wonpil.”

“That’s a nice name! I’m Kang Younghyun.”

The younger tree sent a smile to him between their roots. “How old are you hyung?”

“I’m thirty three.”

“Wow! You must have a nice time living here then!”

“I do.” Younghyun sent a laugh through his roots, and soon felt one vibrate across from Wonpil’s as well. “You come up with a plan yet?”

“I want to be a pirate,” the new sapling spoke to him.

“Any particular reason?”

“Saw a kid reading a book before I was transplanted. I think it was Treasure Island or something.”

Another warm smile passed through their roots, and Younghyun sent a nod of understanding. “My plan is a bit less specific than that, I’m afraid to say. I’d just be happy as a normal human.”

“Oh?”

“I think the simpler it is, the easier it is to get a proper life after the time I serve as a tree. Think of it as a nice **retirement** plan.”

“I see.” Wonpil’s small root wrapped itself more tightly around Younghyun’s more mature one, and he sent over a last smile before nightfall. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

 

“The grasses told me about a little love affair between you and a certain little fig tree,” Jae jokingly whispered to Younghyun the next day.

“Stop it, Jae… He’s still a kid. And **you’re** the rotten stalk for once, so HA.”

The dandelion pouted through his roots before tugging at the purple fig’s more developed ones. “Awh, c’mon man… Give me some slack. I got stopped by the long-root police!”

Younghyun simply chuckled and nudged him away.


	2. And There Never Was

 

Younghyun was now 50. Wonpil was 20. “Wanna get married?”

The purple fig tree held his now-lover’s roots more tightly and hummed with distaste. “Trees don’t need to get married. I don’t want the people to tie a ring around your gorgeous trunk!”

“Silly.” Wonpil chuckled, and his roots tickled the older tree’s a little to get him to giggle. “I meant… As a concept. I just want to stay with you forever.”

“We can just state that in our plans, then: That you’re mine and I’m yours.”

The green fig’s roots slowly reached out to entwine themselves with the purple fig’s as an affirmative.

 

Wonpil was 38. Younghyun was 68. “Let me lean on you a bit, Hyunnie,” the younger tree called out to his lover through his roots. “The sun has been shining so much on me lately…”

Younghyun reached for the sun every passing day, tilting his branches closer and closer to his beloved so he could rest his own atop them. Within half a year, Wonpil was happily sighing out, his green figs swaying in the wind as Younghyun’s purple ones hung beside them at last.

 

Younghyun was 73. Wonpil was 43. The green fig tree smiled over at his lover with a smile on the tips of his roots. “The wasps are so lovely this year…”

“They are,” was the response. A hug followed, then a slow and soft tangle of their roots like the interlacing of fingers.

Wonpil continued to lean into the older tree’s branches, sharing the bright sunlight with them. It was nice for the two trees to sway together in the breeze as the wasps came and went, buzzing among their flowers and dipping their feet into the powdery pollen stored between their petals. The younger tree wanted this to never end, just as he had wished so many years ago…

 

Wonpil was 56. Younghyun was 86. The older tree grasped his gasping partner’s roots tightly and reached his branches for the sun as hard as he could. “What’s wrong?!” he worriedly asked, his branches carefully brushing aside the stray leaves on Wonpil’s crown. “Is the sun shining too brightly?”

The green tree did his best to smile, but his roots showed that it was all fake. He was in pain. “Just an itch, hyung… Makes me uncomfortable.”

The purple tree sighed and decided to let it go, instead continuing to hope the breeze wouldn’t go away so he could keep soothingly smoothing his branches over the younger’s crown.

Once the older fig fell asleep that night, Wonpil willed his roots to find Jae’s. “Hyung,” he whispered out, hoping the dandelion wasn’t asleep yet.

“What is it?” was the replying grumble.

“I think… I think there’s a parasite on one of my branches. I’m gonna kill it off, but don’t tell Younghyunie-hyung… Please, hyung. For me.”

Jae’s expression grew solemn through his roots, and he reassuringly gripped the tree’s roots. “I won’t this time.” Then he adds a concerned, “But if I notice you killing off any other branches, I’m telling him.”

With a sigh, Wonpil slowly recoiled his roots and tediously cut off ties to the itching branch. As he forcefully drained it of nutrients, it began to dry out. But not quickly enough…

 

 

A year down the road, Wonpil slowly began to untangle himself from his lover. It was a grueling process, especially when he had to lie every time Younghyun questioned why he was distancing himself. The constant “The Sun’s burning my leaves away” and “There’s a new tree in the distance – I want to see it” were no longer enough to keep the purple fig’s concern at bay.

Younghyun once asked, “Wonpil… Have you fallen out of love with me?”

And, of course, this led to a total meltdown. The green fig tree let down all the protective walls he had set up around himself and whispered through the only roots he couldn’t seem to break away from his beloved, “Jagiya… I think I’m dying.” And he finally let go.

 

Younghyun was 87. Wonpil was 57. Their roots were entangled once more (the purple fig had made sure they never let go of each other ever again a year ago), and the green fig was doing his best to joke around in an attempt to cover up the coughs streaming through his shaking roots. “I think I may be becoming a girl,” he chuckled out before releasing a chain of coughs.

“And why is that?”

There was a cheesy smile, then: “The wasps have stopped visiting me. They must have me on taboo so they won’t die before reproducing.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, jagiya,” Younghyun whispered out in concern, slowly threading their roots together. “I mean… They simply don’t have a choice.”

“I know… It’s so sad that the wasps who visit female trees don’t get to have children…” Wonpil’s sigh caused the older tree’s trunk to break out with small sap droplets in the places where there were small holes and injuries. “Even if they want to have kids, they can’t. Isn’t that just sad?” Wonpil quietly wept in mourning.

That night, the younger tree slept first. Younghyun stayed awake so he could contact Jae in solitude. He gingerly gripped the trusty dandelion’s roots and his tears fell to the ground as Jae whispered kind words to him. It was a tough night for all of them.

 

Younghyun was 97. Wonpil was 67. "I'm bleeding," Wonpil's roots cried out to Younghyun, and the older tree was about ready to cry for about the millionth time from exhaustion and suffering. "I'm sorry..."

"No... I'm the one who's sorry." The purple fig tree wished once more for the wind to bend his boughs closer to his suffering lover's, to at least let him brush the wilting locks of leaves away from Wonpil's burning forehead of a tree crown like he had not ten years ago. But, as always nowadays, the wind did not come.

It was as if the breezes had been drained away… Just like his lover's life.

 

Three years down the road, Wonpil had deceased. The parasites had taken over his core, the result, of course – terminal. He left his plan to Jae, who handed it carefully to the Earth, where it was taken into account.

Younghyun wept for days, the sap leaking down from his open wounds until he felt faint from dizziness. Just as Wonpil had bled, he bled. He cried out to his dead partner, willed him to live again, but it was too late. The green fig tree was gone, his traces wilting away bit by bit.

The purple fig agonizingly willed himself away. He slowly killed off parts of himself, just as his beloved had done years prior, and, soon enough, he was just a bare trunk. He had no more leaves left to produce food, and Jae held his roots in an attempt to calm him down. “Younghyun… Younghyun, please reconsider!”

“I can’t, hyung,” the fig tree croaked out, his roots parched from his attempts to keep down the water that they kept trying to suck in for some sort of relief… Relief from all the pain and suffering and grief. “I can’t live without him…”

 

Days later, he was dead. The two wilted trees stood side by side, their roots barely gripping the ground as the wind swayed them back and forth in a melancholy dance.

Jae stared at the tragic sight and felt that his own end was near. He was not needed anymore. He had no more purpose. So he sent in Younghyun’s will, then left his own to one of his sisters to send for him. And a day later, he was gone as well, his lineage keeping his prestige for him.

 

Younghyun had been one hundred, then. Wonpil had been seventy. Wonpil had wanted to be a pirate. Younghyun – simply a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about this story... it's quite sad compared to my others ;~;


End file.
